Everyone's Waiting
by QueenMaj
Summary: She's tired of acting like everything is okay. But everyone's waiting. -Rangiku-


**A/N: Hello! Well, you know how I adore the fabulous Australian singer/songwriter Missy Higgins? No? You didn't know? Well, you do now :-) Missy is extremely talented, and her voice is, to put it simply, angelic (it really is - it's clear, strong, and emotional). Her song "Everyone's Waiting" has quickly become one of my favorites, among her other hits.**

**I decided to write this fic because I was listening to it for the billionth time, and I was struck with a realization (which sounds a bit dramatic, I know; but it really did strike me, no warning or anything): it was almost tailor-made for Rangiku. I mean, honestly. You couldn't have written a more perfect song for her if you tried. The only artists whose songs really fit Rangiku's personality and life story are Missy Higgins and Taylor Swift. Perfection :-) I recommend listening to the song as you read this. I listened to it while I wrote.**

**UPDATE: The user catspats31 was kind enough to inform me that putting song lyrics in a story violates the Guidelines of the site, so the lyrics are going down. Thanks, catspats31! :-)**

**Genre: So much angst and drama that I could add another book to the Twilight Saga and still have a bunch left over**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the song or the characters (unfortunately :-( I wish I did)**

Rangiku pasted a smile onto her face. It felt fake, like she was wearing a mask, and she knew that those closest to her could see straight through the cheerful exterior she attempted to maintain. To the rest of the world, she was fine. She was silly, flirtatious, ditzy Rangiku Matsumoto. The one who was envied, because she was always so happy, so carefree. The blood and death of the impending war didn't seem to affect her.

It was almost laughable. Jealous? Of her? Not a chance. _She _should be jealous of _them, _but she honestly couldn't bring herself to care anymore. They were real. They didn't have to cake on makeup every morning to hide the dark circles under their eyes, left over from long nights of wondering what, if anything, they could have done differently. They didn't have to wear smiles so fake that it was almost painful to keep them up. They didn't have to shy away from the others, those who couldn't understand no matter how hard they tried or how good their intentions were.

She should know, better than anyone else, about the intentions of others. She had the best intentions of all of them. She was Rangiku, after all. The one you went to whenever you needed something, whether it was comfort, advice, or just someone to drink with when things got too tough. But what no one seemed to realize was that she was giving, but not recieving. No one took the time to wonder if she was really and truly okay. No one gave her a hug just because they felt that she needed one.

Well, you know what they say: the road to Hell is paved with good intentions, and all that. It didn't matter. If Hell was where Gin was going, she'd follow, no questions asked.

Then again, maybe he'd end up in Heaven. Who knows? His intentions were pure. He'd wanted to protect her, and that knowledge hurt, a terrible slicing pain that ran deeper than anything Aizen could throw at her.

Despite what the general population seemed to think, Rangiku was not stupid. She knew that either she or Gin would not survive to see the end of the Winter War. She also knew that, no matter which one of them died, it would be by the other's hand. It would be fitting, after all. One would be dead, gone from the world, and the other would be broken, haunted by the image of the light leaving the other's eyes, the feeling of blood on their hands. Blood that could not be washed off. The blood of a lover, a sibling, a best friend.

In the end, the only sin either of them was guilty of was loving too much. A love to fierce and beautiful and complex to ever let go of. She knew, without a doubt, that if Gin died, she'd never love again. Perhaps her feelings would fade a little over time, but she'd never be fully capable of loving someone again. It would be Gin's final practical joke, and his masterpiece at that. She'd be the broken one, the one left behind.

Oh, yes. It was so fitting it was almost laughable.

But he wasn't dead yet. She was still capable of love, and right now, her compassion was all that kept her going. She cared for her fellow shinigami, and if they saw how upset and tired and depressed she really was, they'd get scared. She was supposed to be the titanium flower, the one who was beautiful and uplifting and indestructable, too strong to ever be broken.

That, she supposed, was the true reason for her jealousy. Everyone else could be sad, they could be terrified and depressed and angry and everything in between. They had shoulders to cry on. Rangiku was the one everyone went to for a pick-me-up and a kind smile, but the person whom she had always turned to for comfort was gone. He'd abandoned her again, thrown her aside without so much as a second glance, all in the name of protecting her.

So, yes. She was depressed. She was angry. She wanted to kick and scream and sob and kill someone and possibly blow the entire division alcohol budget all on her own in the space of one afternoon. But for now, she thought back to happier times, remembering what it felt like to laugh and sing and dance in the rain. She sighed, managed to attach a smile to her face, and headed out to face the world.

After all, everyone was waiting.

**Hope y'all enjoyed it! I'm going to go read some fluff now. I have to cheer myself up and remind myself that things such as rainbows and kittens and ponies and sunshine still exsist. This was a lot of angst, even for me (and you know how much Queen loves her angst).**


End file.
